The Bitten Peach
by jojo.silly.goose
Summary: After kidnapped while selling his silk, Yao ends up in a Roman slave market... Only to be persistently bid on by a strikingly handsome man with golden eyes – Romulus.


**Summary;** After kidnapped while selling his silk, Yao ends up in a Roman slave market... Only to be persistently bid on by a strikingly handsome man with golden eyes – Romulus.

**Rating;** M, since there will be mature content much later. This is not pure smut; I don't write that.

**Warnings for this chapter;** Nothing, really.

**Pairings;** The Silk Road Couple – Rome x China.

**Disclaimer;** I do not own Hetalia or the characters.

**Notes;** This will not be completely historically accurate! I have read about both cultures of Ancient Rome and China, but that doesn't mean this will be prefect!  
I'm trying very hard to make this pretty and more mature...  
Also, keep in mind that I am about as romantic as a dead goat.

* * *

Umber eyes were forced wide open as the sounds of shrill screams invaded Yao's reverie and his little cart shook as he sat up in a start, his stark-black horses shifting anxiously as soft neighs escaped their lips. The large animals had reason to be anxious, the Chinaman realised soon after blinking his bleary eyes. Thereupon, he could tell who the red-and-silver-armour clad men were, as they looked just like the soldiers from the stories, the _enchanting_ stories that his father had told him... They had to be none other than the famed Roman soldiers. And they were inspecting his horses like they were slabs of meat sitting outside for the taking.

Yao was a sharp man, or so he liked to think. From the putrid smell of burning flesh and wood and the screams of men, women and children alike, he could collect that the island was being trounced into submission.

Yao also liked to think that he was not a fool, and so when one of the men spotted him (unable to prior because he was blending in with the silk in his cart), he did not venture to move or even breathe. The Roman nudged his partner, rapidly going off in Latin and pointing at the Chinese man. He could understand but a few words and phrases –such as 'sold' and 'price' and 'worth a lot' – yet he got the gist of the conversation.

Leery eyes watched the men as they approached him, harsh and commanding voices saying _something_ and by the way their hands were moving up and down, Yao assumed they wanted him to stand up. And so he did, climbing out of the cart and standing up tall (as tall as someone of his stature could be) and straight, trying not to allow one ounce of his fear show.

One of the men forcibly grabbed at his chin, turning his face from side to side – inspecting him just like they'd been to doing his horses moments ago. He couldn't help but scowl at the man, just barely keeping himself from spitting at him and his calculating, hungry eyes. When the man finally did let go, Yao stumbled back a bit, tensing up as he saw the smirk stretch over the man's guise. He picked up a 'good' and 'quality' and 'beautiful' somewhere within that flowing Latin. Their actions only proved his theory; they wanted to capture him and sell him into the slave trade – he was no stranger to what happened when man's land was taken over.

He put up no fight as they grabbed as his gaunt arms and escorted him to what he assumed would be their ship; at some point they'd stopped, pointing back to Yao's cart, and he assumed that they wanted to collect his valuables.

The grandiose ships rested upon the shore's waters, so tall that they seemed to impose over the low-lying city. The Chinaman had seen very few vessels as large as these Roman ships – even the one that had delivered him to this island was only _perhaps_ half the size. Copper-coloured eyes grew and stark pupils seemed to distend as he was wrenched ever closer to one of their officious bodies. As expected, he knew what was going to happen to him – he would be thrust upon one of their ships and taken to Rome, or maybe another city within their boundless empire.

Albeit the reverence and bewilderment that Yao felt, the underlying trepidation that had settled into the pit of his gut was ever growing. He had never been to Rome before, and he certainly had never expected to get to the city in such a fashion. Although he had never been graced with riches, Yao liked to think that he had an exceptional way of life; especially in juxtaposition to the abundance of Chinese slaves. He pitied them, because they were not treated fairly and they were _owned_; Yao could hardly stand the idea of being another's property. Anyone born into slavery would never have the opportunity to climb the social ladder and parents often had to sell their children into the trade. Many would have been _lucky_ to even see a gold coin in their lifetime.

Naturally, he wondered how the Romans treated their slaves – if they truly were the Da Qin then he expected to be on the same level as the ones walking the streets back in his homeland.

The fates, it seemed, chose to hand him a bleak future. Yao was indeed taken into the Roman ship, placed underneath the main deck where a group of to-be slaves was already growing. Each looked as anxious as he felt, although the Chinaman felt that he needed to keep his composure. At the very least, the townspeople were fluent in Latin, while Yao only knew enough to sell off his silk garments.

Smoothing lithe hands over his dark-blue, silk robe, Yao began to grasp at his surroundings. The inside of the vessel was smoothed out, dark-hued woods scrupulously pushed and affixed together – the Romans were obviously adept in the trade of shipbuilding. Being the lower deck, a musty kind of scent permeated throughout the large (and growlingly crowded) room and the floors could hardly be considered clean. Beyond the barren conditions, he began to realise that as more and more of the townspeople were being brought onto the ship, not one as a man. In fact, looking around, he realised that he was surrounded _entirely_ by young women and children...

Was it possible that these Romans thought he was a _woman_?

Even being in this disquieting situation, Yao couldn't help but feel the slightest bit annoyed. Given, he was well aware that he had never had a manly physique, but was it truly that bad? Amber eyes flickered around the room as a sigh escaped his pale, pink lips and he clutched at the folds of his silken clothes, long nails nearly piercing.

All of this proved to be a case of being in the wrong place at ultimately the wrong time.

**ooo**

Approximately three weeks into the voyage was how long it took Yao to start losing sight of the amount of time he had spent on the boat. Each day was filled with watching the women around him cry out for their husbands and living off of stale, mouldy bread and rotten fruit. The most excitement that the Chinese got out of his time in the slave ship was when the children (ones he assumed had lost their parents) would come up to him and seek solace in his company, though he could do little more than sing to comfort them because of the language barrier. He had always loved children, and he was good at taking care of them, for some unbeknownst reason.

When the day came that the ship docked, he could faintly hear the joyous cheers and Latin song from the men above. The townspeople were guided out one by one, a soldier taking each woman by the arm so that they wouldn't dare try and run off. Yao sang to the children, voice becoming shaky and cracking as he knew that his turn was coming up – he'd grown somewhat attached to the children, seeing as they were the only means of contact that he had. However, little to nothing could be done, and he was pulled away from the six or so children that he'd bonded with. Yao did not protest and did not dare look back because he already knew that it would mean having to look upon their disheartened faces.

As he emerged from the depths of the ship, the overwhelming, Mediterranean sunlight singed at his dark eyes. A whimper escaped the man, along with a string of Chinese curses; his escort ignored him and pulled him along as pained tears rolled down his scorching face. Yao stumbled forward, practically tripping over his bare feet as they against the heated, stone walkways. Rome was already a far less than pleasant city than anticipated, and he was beginning to doubt all of the stories that his father had once told him.

As he was all but shoved into a stone building, the Chinaman nearly cried with relief for his burning eyes. While he had been getting somewhat used to the balmy sun, being in the dim-lit area was nothing short of a comfort. Not a moment to himself was spared; seconds after staggering into the room, a number of men pulled him forward and started going off in Latin, 'clothes' being the only word that he could understand. After a few minutes of staring at the hardened men, one of them barked at him and reached forward – all it took was one pull of his robe's drawstring to cause the fabric to slip off of his thin body.

"Aiya! What are you doing?" He yelled out hoarsely, in his mother tongue, hands scrambling to cover up the exposed parts of his body. There was a bit of mumbling from the other men before one grabbed his hands from behind, clasped tip-to-tip as his only undergarments were pulled down over his thin, hairless legs. "Sto-" A hand was clasped over his mouth as the men in front took in his form. Underneath that dingy, meaty hand, Yao's cheeks were painted a deep red and his eyes were squeezed shut.

The sharp intake of breath and rapid Latin that followed were not what he expected. He heard another man enter the room, followed by more of the language. They were talking business, as far at the Chinese knew. Buying, selling, about prices... His robe was picked up and thrown at him – amber eyes cracked open as he felt himself being pushed into another, conjoined room. The tub placed in the middle of the room left Yao with the assumption that they wanted him to bathe. Taking a shaky step forward, robe still clutched tightly to his vital regions, he made for the tub. The water was grimy and freezing cold, but all Yao could do was hold back a shudder and submerge himself into it and begin to rub as his dirtied skin; all the while a Roman soldier watched him so that he did not try to steal away.

New clothes were not provided – they had him slip back into his robe and put his hair up in the clip that he had also brought with him. Yao was barely allowed time to push the last pin into his hair before he was, once again, forced outside and into the streets, which were bumbling with great crowds of people and filled with the mixed sounds of the rolling, Latin language. Not too far off, he could see a clearing in the crowd, where a few of the women who were on the ship stood upon small, circular stage-like platforms, their wrists clasped together in metal just as his own were.

The second he was forced upon his own platform, ankles locked in chains, and a sign hung up in front of him, men dressed in silks and gold flocked to him – eyes lustful and menacing. Yao could feel bile crawl up and burn at his throat, but he swallowed it down, trying to stand tall as he scanned over the crowd.

Until he came to an abrupt stop, unable to move.

That gold; an intense hue, indescribable. It was as if the precious metal was melted down into a lustrous liquid form – there was an all-consuming enthrallment held within the depths of those eyes. Yao felt himself tense up, his insides writhing with _something_ ineffable; suspicion, intense curiosity, distress...

And yet he did not feel as sick as he did when looking into the eyes of all the other men, which were glinting with nothing more than greed and desire.

On top of such things, the Asian could see the man's curiosity returning his own. Fervour outweighed desire and a genuine stupefaction outweighed greed.

Yao couldn't help but wonder what it was that the man was thinking and why his eyes were shining with such bemusement.


End file.
